


This Time

by octoberinlondon



Series: The Time Series [1]
Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberinlondon/pseuds/octoberinlondon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, the baby is strong, the mother is well. This time, there’s hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Hope

Anne hears the midwife sigh in disappointment as the baby wails. 

_“A girl. Only a girl. I don’t think she was ever made to have strong and sturdy boys. A frail boy and a girl. The boy is dead and a girl is worth almost nothing. A fine Queen that his Grace has wed.”_

She wants to protest, not knowing what is worse. Yes, her son is gone, but her daughter is a gift from heaven. And Richard loves her. She is almost sure of it, even though he has not come to see her yet. She knows he isn’t actually allowed to see her already, maybe the midwives have told him to leave her alone, but that couldn’t stop him the last time. 

“His Grace…tell him…” her voice cracks. The head midwife looks at her, an eyebrow raised in disapproval. Anne can tell she doesn’t like her, but she’s too tired to care. “Tell him!” she insists, her voice still shaking. 

The midwife bows reluctantly, but then barks at her young helper to go and send someone to the king. _So, they haven’t even told him yet._ Anne tries to sit. Her body is burning. 

“I want my child. I want to hold her.” “Your Grace is very weak; I don’t think Your Grace should hold her.”

Anne feels the tears on her flushed cheeks. She wants to hold her so badly. She is not weak. She has never been weak. She doesn’t like the tone of the midwife’s voice. She’s mocking her. 

“I don’t care. I want to hold my daughter.” Another attempt, she prays it won’t be as fruitless as the one before. Her heart yearns for her child. To hold her and to soothe her. The little girl is still wailing. This witch of a midwife doesn’t seem to care. The other women in attendance cannot soothe her. None of them can, Anne is sure. She is the only one who could, if they would only let her…

Again, the head midwife raises one of her eyebrows. Anne gathers all her strength, the little strength that is still left, after this long birth, and sits up against the pillows. _See, I am strong enough to hold her. I am not weak._

She fights against every sign of weakness. She has more than one reason to fight now. She has another child, at last. It may be only a little girl, but she seems to be healthy, apart from her wailing, which has become a strong and angry crying. _Neville-lungs. She has the lungs of a Neville_ , Anne thinks, smiling. 

The head midwife barks again, Anne tries to ignore her voice, and finally the little bundle is brought to her. She is swaddled tightly, something Anne doesn’t really approve of, but she accepts it, as it is custom. She is so beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the whole Christendom. Anne thanks the Lord for her. 

Her daughter’s breathing evens. She calms down, as she finally feels loved. There is someone who loves her, and it calms her. Anne is not sure whether her daughter feels who she is, that she is the owner of the womb that protected her for such a long time. 

She doesn’t notice anything. She just presses her daughter close to her chest. _You are safe now, my love. They won’t harm you as long as I am living..._ Anne pushes away the thought that her life could be over tomorrow. 

She hears footsteps, heavy and determined. Richard. 

“Your Grace, this is women’s business, everything in this chamber should not be seen by a man’s eyes. If you wish we’ll take the baby to you, and…”

“I didn’t care about this ‘women’s business’ when my first child was born, why should I care about it now?”

 _Because you were a duke back then, not a king_ Anne thinks and smiles. 

The door opens, and she finally sees his face. Fear and sorrow have carved deep wrinkles into his skin, but he’s still handsome. He has been worried the whole time, ever since that day she’d told him she was with child again, she was carrying a new life. _Will she be able to carry another child to term? Will she survive its birth? What am I supposed to do if she dies?_ He has even been afraid to touch her this time. 

Not even Henry Tudor’s failed invasion has worried him as much as her pregnancy. 

His eyes soften as he sees Anne and the little bundle. 

“It’s only a girl, Your Grace.” His eyes flash in anger. “Leave.” He snaps. There’s no need to say it twice, the head midwife bows before she leaves. After all, he is the king. 

“Oh, Anne!” he falls on his knees, like he’s about to pray. “Richard, don’t. Come to me. Come to us, darling.” He swallows, tries to suppress the tears, by blinking several times, before he gets up and slips into her bed. 

Anne shifts the bundle, so he can see her. She protests, making her parents laugh. 

“Oh,” Richard breathes, awestruck. He gently touches the little nose. _She is beautiful_ ; he thinks and moves his finger to her lips, little perfect, pink lips. She opens them and starts to suck at his finger, which makes him laugh. There is a wisp of her hair revealing itself to him. It’s neither black, like his, nor blonde, like Anne’s. He tries to find something he could compare to this colour. _Auburn_ , he finally realises. 

“Do you want to hold her?” He nods, eager to hold his child. To feel what he and Anne have created. The little girl doesn’t protest this time. She seems to be strong and healthy. He smiles. She’s a future promise. There will be more children.  
Richard kisses Anne’s temple. She feels like she could conquer the world now. 

“What shall we call her? Anne?” he asks, smiling at his Anne, but she shakes her head, no, her little girl is not an Anne. She can’t be an Elizabeth, out of obvious reasons, as well as she can’t be a Margaret, it would only be a reminder of the bad queen. Anne doesn’t want her to be named Isabel, because her sister’s death still pains her. Richard does not want her to be called Cecily, even though it would honour his mother, but he tries to avoid names his brother had already chosen. 

“Matilda?” “No, she does not look like a Matilda,” Richard shakes his head, his daughter sound asleep in his arms. In his mind, he’s going through the list of queen consorts. His father had made sure he would learn the name of every king, and every queen, when he was still a little boy. 

Suddenly it strikes him. None of the English queens will be a namesake of his daughter. “Constance,” he whispers, and Anne buries her head in the crook of his neck. “It’s perfect.” A common name for Spanish infantas, as well as the name of his grandaunt, the Countess Constance of Gloucester. It means _constant_ , he wants his reign to be good and constant, and his daughter is the symbol of his reign.

“It may be an unusual name, but look at her.” Anne nods, gently cupping the head of her sleeping daughter. “Welcome, Constance.”

Their daughter is christened Constance.

This time, the baby is strong, the mother is well. This time, there’s hope.


	2. This Life

_Middleham_

He hears her groan in pain. She’s been in labour for hours, it started probably even before the sun had risen, he can’t remember. The midwives won’t let him see her. He wants to hold her so badly; he wants to be her strength. It’s his child that causes her pain. 

_She is so young, so petite, so fragile_ , he thinks. She has just turned seventeen, and he knows that even younger women have children, but he doesn’t actually care about them. He just cares about his Anne. Every noise he hears almost kills him. He buries his hands in his hair. _Anne, oh my sweet Anne, forgive me for causing you such pain. Forgive me for filling your womb so soon after our wedding._

Richard jumps as he hears her scream. A hand on his shoulder stops him. Francis shakes his head and pulls Richard back onto his seat. “Richard, Richard.” He grins. “If that happens every time your wife has a child, you will become old very, very soon.” Richard looks at Francis, his eyes red rimmed. Francis is wrong, terribly wrong. It’s his first child. And it is coming early, not too early, but still early, the midwives have told him. 

The scream that fills the air is longer than the one before. Not even Francis can calm him now. He pounds against the door, as it is locked. “Anne!” He falls on his knees; all his strength has suddenly fled his body. What if that was the last time he’s heard her voice? Finally, finally he hears the weak cry of a child. He leans his forehead against the door, sweat running down on his neck. 

It feels like an eternity, even though it’s just another hour, until the midwife opens the door. She knows she actually shouldn’t, but she feels sorry for the young duke. He’s still on his knees, looking like a beaten dog. “My…my wife…the…the Duchess…” He stammers. The midwife is unable to cope with the situation. Why does he just care about her, and not about his child? He is a royal duke, for God’s sake! 

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s fine. The position of the baby caused a lot of trouble, but she’s been brave. Don’t worry; the next birth will be a breeze.”

“I want to see her.” 

“No…no….no! That is not possible! Not now. Your Grace!” Richard storms past her, and the midwife is wringing her hands. _This impatient young boy!_  
Anne looks small in this vast bed. Her lips are almost white, and Richard’s heart seems to skip a beat as he sees the blood-stained sheets. 

Anne smiles a weak smile and reaches out her hand for him. He looks quite dishevelled, not wearing his doublet. She is almost forced to suppress a giggle. She feels so strong, even though she might look like a little weak girl, but she has just done something that neither her mother, the Dowager Countess of Warwick, nor Queen Elizabeth, nor her sister Isabel have achieved. The first child she’s given her husband is a boy. It’s her very own victory. 

“It’s a boy, Richard. A little boy. He is small, but I’m sure…Richard!” His sobs fill the chamber as he pulls her into his arms, and when his son is brought to him and Anne, all he can do is send a silent prayer to God, thanking him for his son, and asking him for Anne’s well-being. Richard kisses her, refusing to leave her, even though the midwives tell him to do so. He’s not able to speak. He almost doubts he will ever be, but he still has his Anne, and his son. A son they name Edward – to honour the King, his brother. 

He is sure, as long as he has Anne, Edward, and his honour, nothing will ever be able to harm him. He prays he will never have to feel the pain of losing them. 

But he has to feel the pain of losing his son, and this pain almost makes him lose Anne.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_London_

Anne laughs, watching how Richard helps Constance to walk. Richard is already thirty four, but he swears that, with Constance, his youth has returned. He feels vital, strong, and the pain in his back has become almost non-existent. He spends every night in Anne’s bed, a victory for her. A victory over the gossiping courtiers. 

Constance shows her enchanting smile. Richard tries to push the thoughts about her future away, wanting to live in the present. Almost immediately after she was born, marriage proposals reached the English shore. Richard has neglected them so far. He knows what they’re about. They’re speculating about her being their only child. Her husband would rule her. Richard doesn’t want her to be ruled by any man. She is his daughter, his precious jewel. 

“I’ve been thinking, Anne.” He mumbles as Constance starts to pull at his curls. “So? What have you been thinking?”  
“Never mind.” He says, knowing it would only cause pressure. He knows how much Anne yearns for another baby. For a boy. 

“You’ve been thinking about this law that would make Constance Queen in her own right, without the possibility to be governed by a husband, haven’t you?” He nods, how could he ever think Anne wouldn’t notice? “I think it’s a good idea, if the parliament should agree. Maybe there will never be another child, maybe there will never be another boy.” 

Five times she’s been pregnant. She’s miscarried two children; one child has been stillborn. Her son has predeceased her, but her daughter lives. That is her joy, maybe she’s still able to bear sons, and she’s not past the childbearing age. 

She prays every night, every night after Richard’s even breath tells her he’s asleep, that God will give her another child. A boy to rule the kingdom. A boy that would spare her daughter from becoming a pawn on the chess board of politics. They have long agreed on letting their daughter marry for love, just as they’ve done. 

Anne bites her lip, trying to hold back the tears. “That’s why I want this law, Anne. Because I don’t care. I want you and Constance to be happy and healthy. That’s all I’m breathing for.” 

He puts Constance back onto the furs that have been spread on the floor for her, lowering himself on his knees in front of Anne. She wants to protest, knowing that his back will cause too much pain. He shakes his head, silencing her. He gently kisses her hand. “Oh, Anne.” 

She feels the weight of his head on her lap and starts to tangle her fingers in his curls. There are so many things he wants to tell her. She’s his anchor, the only thing that keeps him tethered to this world, the only reason why he fought against Tudor with all of his fierceness. He feels her hands on his skin. 

“Will you come to my chamber tonight?” It has become their ritual, every night she asks him, and every night he tells her he will come. “If you want me to.” The corners of his lips are curling into a smile. She kisses his lips, until the smile fades and there’s nothing but hunger on his lips. She is sure; she will have another child soon. 

Constance claps her tiny hands together, laughing. Richard gets on his feet again, suppressing a groan. He doesn’t want Anne to notice, but of course, she does. “The Princess demands her Papa, I guess?” He snatches Constance and spins around. _As long as I have you and your mother, I am the happiest man on earth._

Later, when Richard reluctantly hands his daughter over to the nurse, he thinks about how she’s slept between him and Anne for the first months of her life, and how he misses her little body between them. Maybe, he thinks, maybe they should’ve done this with Ned, as well. Maybe Anne should’ve nursed Ned, just as she’s done with Constance, even though it almost caused a little scandal. Richard doesn’t care anymore. He’s given up the efforts to please every one. 

_You would love your little sister, Ned, and don’t you ever think she’s here to replace you. No one will ever be able to do so. But she makes the pain of losing you a bit more bearable._

He walks into Anne’s chamber, shedding his doublet before he wraps his arms around her.


	3. Everything Will Be Well

To Anne, Richard looks like a little boy in his sleep. It’s the only time his features are completely relaxed. She could watch him for hours. Constance will be joining them soon, and that’s why she slips out of bed, careful not to make a sound. She has asked Elizabeth to bring her daughter over, and she should be back with her soon.

Elizabeth holds Constance close. She’s just had a baby herself, but has to accompany her husband to court, leaving her little boy behind. She is grateful, though. She is grateful because she did not have to marry Tudor, a descendant of two bastard lines, thus not worth it in her eyes. Moreover, he’s a complete stranger to her. Yet, she feels sorry for him. He and his uncle are imprisoned in the tower, probably forever.

She is grateful because she loves her husband, and her baby boy. Her husband adores her; he even let her choose the baby’s name. She’s chosen Arthur, because her father would have liked it. “Someday, I’m going to bring Arthur with me, Constance.” She whispers softly to the little girl. “You will like each other, I’m sure. You could become playmates, if you want to.”

Anne already awaits her. “Your Grace.” Elizabeth bows and hands Constance, who has her little arms eagerly stretched out for her mother, over. “You know you can call me Anne when it’s just you and me, Elizabeth.” Anne smiles. The poor girl has been through a lot. Rumours spread by Richard’s enemies have almost ruined her life.

Elizabeth smiles and kisses Constance and Anne’s cheek, before she turns and leaves. 

“Hello, my love.” Anne whispers softly. Constance yawns and buries her little fingers in Anne’s robe, but as soon as Anne enters the chamber with her, locking the door behind her, Constance is excited. She remembers the room; she’s spent a long time here, sleeping between her parents, feeling their warmth. 

Anne sheds off her robe and slips into the bed again, without letting go of Constance. As soon as the little girl touches the bed, she crawls over to her father who is not lying on his back anymore. It’s a much more comfortable position for him. He has his face turned to Anne and Constance. Constance regards this to be an invitation. 

Richard groans as he feels a little finger pushing against his nose, followed by an amused giggle. He blinks. How much he needs this right now, he realises, opening his eyes. “Hello Princess.” His voice sounds rough and is the proof that he is not completely awake by now. 

He moves to catch Constance and changes his position in a swift motion, so he’s lying on his back again. Richard’s arms stretch to their full length, holding Constance up in the air. The little girl squeals in complete happiness, while Anne gasps in horror. “Richard!” Richard lowers Constance and lets her sit on his chest. 

Constance makes a frustrated noise; her short moment of flying was interrupted way too soon. Anne snuggles close, and her fingers start to draw little circles on Richard’s chest. “I thought you would love to have her with us this morning.” Richard nods. _The Parliament_. His body becomes tense for a second. 

Anne wishes she could tell him not to worry. She wishes she could tell him that there will be another child soon, but she cannot. There will be no child soon. All she can do is gently kiss his ear, and stroke his cheek. _You will be strong, my love. I know you will be. For the sake of Constance_. Their daughter starts to giggle as Richard tickles her tiny feet. She is completely unaware of her parents’ inner troubles. 

_“Your Grace, we know you love your daughter, but remember the last time England was under the control of a woman. England deserves peace.”_

_“A woman is not meant to rule a kingdom. Let her husband rule.”_

_“She is my daughter and I know better than anyone else that she will be the best ruler that England could have. Do you want to be ruled by someone from Spain? Or France? Do you want England to be ruled by a foreigner?”_

_“Your Grace, in case the Queen won’t have another child, there is still the son of the late Duke of Clarence.”_

At the end of the day, he has them agree that Constance will not end up as a consort. That she and her husband will be co-rulers. It does not please him. It is not what he wants.

Richard fumes inside. The parliament won’t agree. They’d rather see Teddy on the throne, a boy who doesn’t even understand who he is. Sometimes Teddy reminds Richard of poor, mad Harry. _A traitor’s son!_ He regrets it as soon as he has thought it. 

He feels trapped. How is he supposed to tell Anne about it? It will break her heart. _Oh, Ned! Why did you have to leave us? Did you feel that your future would be too much to bear? It was my fault…and I was not with you in your last hours. Forgive me, Ned. I tried to protect you and I failed. Forgive me._ His mind is tormenting him.

Richard finds Anne in Constance’s nursery, playing with their daughter. He decides not to tell her, at least not for today. Anne is beautiful; her past has left no marks on her body. He regrets having left her behind, and having been on the road for most of their marriage. Maybe there would have been dozens of babies, if he hadn’t been away for so long. 

Maybe all their children would be happy and healthy and it pains him to know they’re not. Three of them did not even have a chance to take their first breath, and he blames it on himself. 

“Look, who’s watching us!” Anne’s voice sounds like music to him. _Thank God, I have you. Thank God, I have you and our daughter. I will make the future better for you, Constance. Your future won’t be as dark as my past has been before you were born._

Constance laughs and Richard could swear he’s heard her say “Papa.” 

“I think she should sleep with us tonight, just for this once.” Richard says softly and Anne smiles, knowing that it probably won’t be _just for this once_ , but she doesn’t mind at all. 

Richard lies awake in the middle of the night. He feels Constance and Anne’s bodies next to him. His daughter is moving, constantly changing her position, so she has almost conquered the whole bed. _How is he supposed to sleep, knowing his daughter’s future is at stake_. He just doesn’t know. 

Anne’s voice is his sweet salvation. “Everything will be well, Richard. Don’t doubt it.” He’s not noticed that she’s awake, too. Her voice soothes him, yet he has heard the pain in it. _She thinks I doubt her. I don’t want her to doubt me, or my love for her_. Anne shifts her position, so she’s lying on her side, looking at Richard. He reaches out his hand to take hers. 

_If only I could give you another baby, Richard_. “I think Constance should sleep in her nursery tomorrow.” Anne whispers and Richard grins, telling himself that she’s right. _Everything will be well this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is good news, but I decided to add another chapter, which means that this won't be the last (as it was actually supposed to be). :) I hope to post the next chapter asap, but unfortunately the infamous finals are coming, and I don't know if I'll be able to write anything at all. Anyway, I hope you like the new chapter! :)


	4. This Time

Constance is almost two as Richard finds himself wandering up and down the corridors again. He feels it has happened too soon, Anne feels different. He knows she has spent nights praying for this child to be a boy. 

This time, Richard has given his best not to be worried. He’s even touched her, has even defied the laws of the church by bedding his pregnant wife. This time, she’s felt healthy and strong, comparing this pregnancy to her last. This time, Anne is sure the child will be strong and healthy again, and it will be a boy.

Now he is wandering through the corridors. It’s the middle of the night. He’s almost fallen out of their bed, hearing his wife shriek in pain. He hates it. He hates to be the reason why she is in pain. This time, however, he knows the pain will be worth it. After her miscarriages, after the birth of their stillborn daughter, he’s cursed himself, never wanting to do this to Anne again. 

Yet, he has. The servants are quite amused by his behaviour. He still feels like he is twenty one, completely inexperienced in becoming a father, even though there are his two bastard children. If only he could wake Constance now, to have some company, but Anne would scold him for it, he is sure. And his little princess needs her sleep. 

Francis isn’t there. He’s at Minster Lovell, probably sleeping the deep sleep of the just. Richard cannot sleep now. He turns to go back. The birthing chamber has its own gravity that seems to pull him to it. 

_Yes, Ned. Your father behaves like a fool. Your mother is quite experienced in this; she knows what she has to do. Oh, Ned, you should be here with me now. You would understand me._

He thinks of his son, he would be a young man by now. Richard has turned again, away from the birthing chamber, because the noises he hears somehow feel like a knife buried in his chest.

Anne tries to fight the fatigue with all the strength she has. She already imagines this child to have its own will. It has already proven it by deciding to arrive in the middle of the night. _You should have let me sleep till morning, my little one_ , Anne thinks as the midwife finally urges her to push. 

She’s quite relieved that Richard is not here. He is a strong warrior, for sure, but he wouldn’t be able to stand the horrors of a birthing chamber. She gathers all her strength. _Please, let this be a boy. Dear Lord, let this child be a boy_.

She falls back against the pillows, glad to have a few seconds to breathe deeply, before she has to push again. She has never conceived so easily, and she feels there’s never been a birth as swift and easy as this one, thanks to the changes her body has gone through with each child. _One last push._

The midwife, a different woman than before, shrieks in excitement, and Anne knows she is triumphant. She cannot help but laugh. She feels so vital, and is suddenly not a bit tired at all. “A boy, Your Grace! A fine little boy!” His birth is his mother’s greatest triumph. She wishes this old witch of a midwife that had guided her through Constance’s birth would be here now. _I can have strong and sturdy boys._

The women care for her son and for her. They change her shift, wipe her forehead and admire her for her strength. They swoon over the baby, tell her how strong and beautiful he is, how vital and healthy he looks. What a great king he will be. Anne smiles, yes, her son will be on the throne someday. 

Almost an hour passes before Anne is able to think clearly again. Richard has to be out of his mind by now.

“Fetch his Grace!” She smiles at one of the young girls in attendance, while the midwife hands the baby over to her. Her precious boy. This time, no one objects. The girl nods, excited to be the one to deliver the good news. An heir is born. She was present at the birth of the future King of England.

Richard is at the end of the corridor, as the door opens and the young girl runs out. She doesn’t see him immediately, even though she knows he must be here, because she was the one who’s seen him stumbling out of the Queen’s chamber before the midwives were called. He hears the baby cry. Their child is born. “Your Grace! Your Grace!” She calls, running over to him. 

She wants to tell him that it’s a boy, but he’s already raced past her. He’s prepared to see blood-stained sheets, as well as an exhausted, and disappointed Anne. But he is wrong. They’ve changed Anne’s shift already. She’s bent over the baby, touching its body with almost reverent movements, and she looks like a flower in spring. 

“Your Grace.” The women bow, he doesn’t even care. “The Queen has given you a strong boy, Your Grace.” The head midwife smiles, the King seems to be bewildered. “Leave us.” He murmurs, his eyes fixed on Anne. They bow again and leave, smiling. 

Anne wishes Constance would be here now, to see her brother, she wishes Ned would be here, too. Her baby is a vital little boy, but easy to soothe, not like Ned, much more like Constance. She’s asked the midwife not to swaddle him. He’s just wrapped in a white cloth, so she can touch his body, and check if he’s fine. 

It takes her some time to notice Richard. She’s been completely engrossed in watching her son. _He has his father’s eyes_ , she thinks as she looks up, and sees Richard standing before her. Richard’s knees shake. _A boy_. He asks himself whether he’s awake or dreaming. 

Anne doesn’t even tell him he has to support the baby's head as she hands the boy over to him. Richard can’t help it, but laugh. It’s a deep noise, coming from the back of his throat. He is holding his son, and feels completely surprised how big he is, how strong he seems to be. “Thank you, Anne. Christ, I love you!” Anne laughs, holding out her arms. She wants to hold him in her arms. Richard and the baby. 

Richard slips into her bed, just like he’s done every time after she’s had a baby. _The future King of England, and I’m his father_. One of his low chuckles escapes him. He turns around, wanting nothing more than beholding the beautiful face of his Anne, but she looks worried. 

“What is it, love? Are you all right? Are you in pain? Shall I fetch the midw-…” Anne shakes her head, touching his arm. “No, I’m fine Richard, but…will you still come to my chamber, after I’ve given you a son?” Richard raises his eyebrow; he is confused and doesn’t understand why she would ever think he would abandon her now. “I will always come to your chamber. Until I am grey and old, and you don’t want me anymore.”

Anne smiles, the birth has turned her emotions upside down. Richard leans his forehead against hers. Their son is sleeping in his father’s arms. His entrance into the world has been quick, but he’s tired. “What shall we name him?”

Richard and Anne look at each other, knowing that they’re going to make one of the most important decisions they’ve ever made. After all, he will be king someday. “We should name him Henry, to mock Tudor.” Richard grins, and Anne feels reminded of the young boy she’s spent her days with at Middleham. “No, there will be more boys to be named Henry, I’m sure. I want him to be named after his father.” She says, kissing Richard’s neck. 

“Richard.” He mumbles. Anne feels hopeful, her little Richard has brought the hope she thought to be lost, after she’s not conceived immediately again. Everything is well. “You must be tired, Richard.” Anne gently rubs his back, eliciting a groan from Richard’s lips. “I should be worried about you, not the other way around.” 

Anne pulls him with her, so he’s lying back against the pillows, still cradling their son. This time, their prayers have been answered. This time, he’s sure he’ll be able to sleep. This time, there’s no need to worry about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was the final chapter...and they finally have another baby boy. :D I hope you liked it, and thank you all so much for bearing with me. :)


End file.
